


scars (you've got too many to hide, i don't have enough to understand why)

by oakshields



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Incest, M/M, Pining, some would argue mildly abusive behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakshields/pseuds/oakshields
Summary: Someone used to tell Albus that the life you lead on Earth was dictated by who you chose to spend it with. That’s not true. Albus thinks, maybe, that the life he leads on Earth is dictated by himself. All his happiness, his sadness, his joy and his guilt and his worth have only ever been determined by himself. Albus chose for his own heart to break, in the end.(or: it's ok to sleep with your brother if it's only physical, right?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know why i do this to myself. i sit down with one little idea and then here i am, nearly 18k words later. 
> 
> there is so much i say, i could talk for hours if i had the time, but instead i will let you read. 
> 
> enjoy.
> 
> (side note: i wrote this entire thing on my phone and no one has checked it over for me. you've been warned.)

It began with a nightmare. Well, more accurately, it began with the summer Albus Potter turned sixteen. The summer Teddy Lupin came to stay. 

Cousin Teddy (aptly named, despite no blood  relation) had spent half his young life growing up at the Potter's. In fact, so much so, when Albus was just a child he actually thought Teddy _was_ his cousin. An older, much cooler, more brightly coloured cousin, compared to the likes of Rose and Hugo Granger. It didn't help that his farther would always explain it as, "Teddy is family. He's not family like, well, how do I explain. He's not family like James or Lily are to you, or Rose and Hugo, but he's still family." Eight year old Albus found that very confusing indeed. 

Albus always looked up to Teddy like some phenomenal big brother he didn't have. Albus would never, ever, use the word "phenomenal" to describe his brother James. Teddy was _cool_. Teddy was the one who would show Albus secret bits of magic; who would turn bits of parchment into flying birds and steal biscuits from the cupboard right under Ginny's nose. Teddy made Albus laugh so hard his eyes watered and would always offer nuggets of advice and life wisdom worth their weight in gold. He was the big brother Albus always wanted, in every way. 

Teddy was everything James wasn't. 

Albus still believes, to this day, that James intended to make his life a living nightmare since the moment he was born. For as long as Albus can remember, since before he even had the capacity for storing memories; James was, well, James. He was relentless teasing, pushing and pulling. He was hiding all of Albus's socks, cutting his hair in his sleep and filling the centre of his favourite biscuits with toothpaste. James was the absolute definition of royal, relentless pain ( _relentless pain_ ), in Albus's ass. 

Albus once remembers clinging onto his fathers leg for dear life, positively wailing, " _Is there a spell to make James go away? Please dad, Please!"_  Harry Potter had simply laughed, smoothing down Albus's messy hair with his fingers and saying, _"Sorry Al, you're stuck with him."_  Albus had cried. 

 As Albus got older, his hatred of James and James's apparent hatred of him, eased into natural coexistence. Actually, if Albus is being honest, he knows the two have never had anything but love for one another. But sometimes it's hard to remember that when James laughs about the time he tied Albus to a tree and left him there until after supper. 

Things mostly changed when Albus started Hogwarts. When he was sorted into Slytherin, became best friends with a Malfoy and generally only spoke to James at holidays, despite living in the same castle for a greater part of the year. They slipped into a comfortable pattern over the years; with mostly silent nods in the school halls and coming together at summer months to sit on the couch for hours simply enjoying in being one another's atmosphere. James's reputation for being a general pain in the ass (to all creatures great and small) didn't exactly lessen with age, but his constant target on Albus did considerably. 

Everything changed the summer Teddy Lupin came to stay. 

Once, when Albus was only eleven and standing on the Platform of 9 and 3/4, James had suggested that if Teddy were to move in he and Al could share a room. Albus still remembers with clarity what their father had said; _"you two will share a room only when I want the house demolished_." Obviously, all those years later, Harry Potter had far more trust in his children. 

Looking back on it, on that stupidly fateful summer, Albus can't even entirely remember why Teddy came to stay for those few months. Something to do with a new job closer to where they lived, something to do with wanting to spend time with Harry and probably something else. All Albus really remembers, after all this time, is those two months he and James spent sharing a room. 

Albus was entirely less than thrilled about it, and James seemingly shared a similar sentiment. To which Albus had reminded him, "didn't you want this when you were thirteen?". James had punched him in the arm, said something about "if you snore, I'll fucking kill you," and sauntered away. That's the only way Albus can think to explain James's walk; sauntering (with an air of arrogance). 

Mostly it was fine, for about three weeks. Having Teddy around was brilliant, Albus started teaching himself new spells to show off to his best mate Scorpius and James mostly left him alone. Actually, really the only time Albus saw James was during some meals and in the short window after going to bed and falling asleep. Their mother had transfigured a pair of slippers into a bed and set it in the farthest corner from Albus in the room. James usually (constantly) grumbled about how the bed didn't feel right, but mostly their shared sleeping conditions were _okay_.  

 Until the night Albus let James kiss him. 

 -- 

**Summer, 2024.**

 

"Al, Albus, Al!" 

Albus awakes with a start. He takes two seconds, three, to centre himself, to clear the stars from his eyes and anchor his vision back to in front of him. His breath is deep, chopped on the inhale and his heart pounds like a steel drum. Last Albus can remember, the only thing above the emptiness of dark hooded figures and piercing screams scratching under his finger nails, is watching the lights behind his eyes paint the world green. He see's his Dad, just for a second, lying lifeless on the floor. 

"Fuck," Albus says, "fucking shit." 

He'd almost forgotten a voice had actually ripped him out of the dream until a gentle hand touches his shoulder. It takes everything Albus has not to flinch violently, instead he looks sharply up to see James looming over him in the shadows. "Fuck," he said again, "sorry mate. Didn't mean to wake you." 

In the darkness, Albus see's James shrug. "It's fine," James says. "I saw you freaking out more and more by the second so I though I better wake you before you start waking up the whole house." 

Albus sits up slowly, trying to let his eyes adjust. "Thanks, for waking me." 

James doesn't hesitate to sit down on the edge of Albus's bed, making the mattress dip. "Having a nightmare?" He asks, his voice far too soft. Softer than Albus has ever heard it. 

"Yeah," Albus nods. "Yeah, I don't even really know what it was about." 

"Was is it about... that thing that happened." 

Albus knows exactly what James is referring too, and if it weren't for his scattered nightmare addled brain, he'd probably laugh at James's attempt of coyness. Albus wants to say, "oh, you mean that time I changed history, more than twice, and almost deleted our whole existence in the process, whilst also almost bringing back Voldemort?" But instead he simply says, "yeah." 

James nods, like he understands, which he doesn't. He never will. "That sucks, man," he says, and Albus has always been so fond of his naivety. 

"Yeah," Albus says again, for the hundredth time, and let's himself fall back into the safe shell of pillows beneath him. "Sorry, you can go back to bed now." 

James hesitates. "I can stay with you, if you want. So you sleep okay." 

If it weren't so dark, Albus would raise an eyebrow, just for James's benefit. Instead, despite himself, he says, "yeah, okay." 

He lifts the duvet up for James to crawl in beside him, unsure if the small single bed will even be big enough for a sixteen and eighteen year old. Albus rolls to his side and James has no choice but to slot in behind him, back to chest, ass to groin. 

"I don't think we've been this close, in like, forever," James mumbles into the pillow. 

"Is it weird? I feel like it's weird," Albus says and James laughs. 

"It's only weird if you say it's weird." 

Albus supposes that's true, although, he knows he won't exactly be telling all his friends that he shared a bed with his brother over the holidays. They're silent for a few moments, with James's deep breaths hitting the back of his neck softly, and Albus is convinced he's fallen asleep until he says, "your bed is so much better than that transfigured one." 

"Except smaller," Albus says. 

"Nah, i don't mind that," James replies, moving closer as if to emphasis his point. "Are you feeling better?" 

If Albus had more room, he'd shrug. "I suppose." 

"You know you can always talk to me, right? I'm here for you, Al." 

"I appreciate that," he murmurs in response. And honestly, he does. "But I won't bore you with my problems." 

James makes a noise that sounds as if it's halfway between a laugh and a huff. "Don't be ridiculous, your problems are my problems." 

"I feel like you're being way too nice to me," Albus says. "You're only nice to me when you want something." 

James scoffs as if he's been accused of some great crime. "Okay firstly, rude. Secondly, I'm allowed to care for my baby brother." 

Albus rolls his eyes, even though he knows James can't see him. "Yeah whatever, Potter." 

"Shut up," James mumbles, placing his arm around Albus's waist to pull him in gently and hold him there. Albus freezes, eyes opening to the dark room that provides nothings but shapes and shadows. 

"James, what are you --" 

"Just, shut up," James interrupts, squeezing Albus tighter. "It's just nice to be close." 

 _Maybe when I was eight_ , Albus thinks, back when he used to crawl into James's bed at night and be found by their mother in the morning. But he's not eight anymore. 

All Albus can think is that this must be normal James, to feel closeness when he sleeps. Albus is not naive enough to think James hasn't had his fair share of girlfriends over the years, which is what he puts it down to. Although, perhaps that makes it worse. 

"I guess I should have known," Albus murmurs, "Gryffindors like to _cuddle_." 

James's laugh is almost muffled by Albus's shoulder. "My bad. I forgot you were a cold hearted snake." 

"Hey," Albus scoffs, offended, "I'll have you know that us Slytherins are actually very sensitive. We're just smart about it. We don't give our love to everyone." 

"Yeah? What about me then?" 

Albus can't take it anymore. Can't take the tone of James's voice. The arm gripped tightly around his middle like an anchor. He rolls over quickly, with the small room he's been allotted and finds himself nose to nose with his brother. James's grip simply shifts, still holding Albus by the waist to keep him close. 

"Why are you being weird?" Albus asks, able to see the gold in James's eyes, even in the dark. There's freckles there, too, a light smattering across James's sunskissed nose and cheeks. 

"I'm not being weird," James responds, the infliction in his voice sounding oddly like confusion. "I just want to make sure you're okay." 

"Well, I'm fine."

"Really? because you started screaming in your sleep and I had to put a silencing charm on the room." 

"Oh." Albus didn't know he had been screaming. Shit. 

"Yeah so, excuse me for being worried."

Albus rolls his eyes, because he knows James will be able to see it this time. "Okay, whatever you say." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Well, you've hardly cared for my well being before." 

James's grip on his shirt turns angry. "That's incredibly unfair, Al." 

Albus can feel himself wanting to fight. He feels it down to his toes. But he knows starting an argument with James in his single bed during the middle of the night is _not_ a smart idea. Maybe he'll save it until morning. 

"Ok, sorry, it's fine. Sorry I said anything. I appreciate your concern. But I'm okay, honestly." 

James smiles. Well, more smirks. "You're cute when you're angry." 

Albus practically groans. "Stop being weird! Have you hit your head or something?"

"No," James grins. "I've always been this way." 

"Yeah you've definitely hit your head." 

"Whatever, just shut up and cuddle me Albus Potter." 

Albus is completely less than happy about it, but he complies all the same. He tucks his head under James's chin, resting against his chest until he can hear the _thumpthumpthump_ of his brothers heart beneath him. _D_ _efinitely weird_ , Albus thinks, but he can't help but feel utterly secure, like he's in some protective trance that shields him from all that intends to hurt him. Just when he thinks James has finally, finally, fallen asleep, he says, "hey Al?" 

Albus tilts his head up, just enough so he can open his eyes to look at James directly. "Yeah?" 

James doesn't say a word. In fact, Albus is fairly sure he's stopped breathing, but Albus does too when James leans forward to press their lips together gently. 

The last thing Albus remembers, because he's fairly sure he's gone catatonic, is James's evil, face grinning down at him when they part. 

His evil, beautiful face. 

  


\-- 

 

Albus is twenty-four now. 

It all seems like such a lifetime ago, when he and James were in that small single bed on a warm night in August. It seems like such a lifetime since Albus felt like the whole situation was going to cause a mental breakdown; since James had kissed him again the next morning and told him it was going to be alright. Albus had believed him, and the problem was; he kept believing him, for eight years. 

They shared Albus's bed for the remainder of Teddy's stay. Albus can't entirely remember how far things went that first summer, he just mostly remembers James's soft lips and strong arms almost every night. Albus felt like if it was contained to just that room, to just that bed, it was okay. He felt like if nothing changed outside that room, that all it was, was secret touches and desires; it wasn't wrong. 

Things between the brothers progressed slowly, like a drip from a broken tap. Summer ended, Albus went back to school, James went to work for the Ministry and it was like summer never happened. Of course, Albus remembers that year with such clarity. Of waking up in his four poster bed in the dead of night, no longer feeling his heart thump with nightmares but thumping with _want_. That Christmas, during Albus's sixth year, he felt like everything clicked into place. James was home before him and Lily, spending the holidays with his family and away from the flat he now shared with a few friends from Hogwarts. Seeing James, after those months apart, was like nothing had ever happened between them. Their hug was normal, their smiles genuine, but that night between dinner and dessert, James had pulled Albus into the hallway closet and kissed him like their lives depended on it. 

 _"I don't want to stop this"_ , he had said. And Albus agreed. 

And that's what they became. 

Albus finished school and started working for his uncle Ron and uncle George in Diagon Alley and James started working with their mother, travelling the country and writing articles for the Daily Prophet on every wizarding sport known to man. They lived their lives apart and moved forward. Albus dated people, lots of people, and moved into a flat with Scorpius off Russell Square in London. James moved out of the shambles of an apartment with his mates and seemed like he was settling down, getting a new place out of the city with a girl he'd met at a Qudditch game one Autumn. Her name was Isabelle; they had a house Guildford, on the edge of Surrey, with flowers in the front garden and a letter box they had painted their names on. 

They grew, they aged, they became men and lived their lives. They barely saw each other, perhaps once every few months, sending owls about needing to meet for a pint or catch a game of the muggle sport Football which they both thoroughly enjoyed. So they would, they did, they would drink pints and yell at men running up and down a field and at the end of it all; they would fuck. 

It was so utterly unspoken, like a bond that ran so much deeper than the shared blood beneath their veins. It was like that summer, that very first summer, where secrets weren't real when they were locked behind the door of a hotel room. Albus would give himself to James, completely and utterly and wholly, every time they were together, and James would touch Albus like the world was going to fall apart if he didn't. 

Albus would live his life the months in between, his easy, normal, so normal life and he wouldn't think of James. He would argue with Scorpius about who's turn it was to clean the bathroom, he would have dinner with his parents weekly and promise his Dad he'd get a different job soon and he'd never ask about James. It wasn't real. That's what Albus told himself. When he woke up in the middle of the night, sobbing from the ache that came with wanting his brother to the point of pain, he told himself it wasn't real. 

Lines between normal and earth shattering would always crack at Christmas. Christmas was the one time of the year where things were always made... difficult. Both James and Albus would stay with their parents over the holidays and sometimes it felt like they were never really growing up at all; like they'd never left. The only difference was, James would bring Isabelle. Isabelle, who was practically perfect in every way, and their mother would always ask when she was going to see a ring on Isabelle's finger. They would spend Christmas Day sitting around the table like one big happy family, with all their uncles and aunts and cousins and everyone it seemed they'd ever known try and squeeze all under the one roof. Everyone would smile and laugh and eat and drink and it would always end with James swallowing Albus's name off his tongue when he came in the dead of night. Back in that same bed where it all started. 

 _"We shouldn't have done that,"_  Albus would _always_ says afterwards. _"Not with Isabelle just down the hall."_  James would always get angry and they would always fight, leaving the brothers to part ways in the following days miserable and irritated and unlikely to see each other again till April. 

But it would always end the same, at a hotel in Soho, with James pounding Albus so hard into the wall his fingernails damaged the paint. 

Everything changes on the night of Albus's twenty-fifth birthday. 

 

\-- 

 

"Scorpius, for the love of God, hurry the fuck up." 

"Can you like, chill yourself, for two seconds?" Scorpius yells, his voice carrying down the length of the hallway. 

Albus sits, rather impatiently, on the beaten leather sofa in their living room, drumming his fingers against his knees. It's highly unfair, he thinks, that he has to wait for his best friend to get ready on his _own_ birthday. 

"I'll be one more minute, I swear," Scorpius adds and Albus scoffs. 

One more minute is four more minutes and Albus uses that time to try and straighten the lines on his shirt. In the end he grabs his wand, muttering spells under his breath his dad had taught him once. _"This will work better than any iron,"_  Harry used to say. _"What's an iron?"_  Albus used to ask. 

"That'll never work," Scorpius says from the doorway, breaking Albus's concentration. "Just leave it like that. Who cares?" 

"Me. I was raised right, Malfoy." 

Scorpius snorts, a completely unflattering sound. "In less than twenty minutes you're going to be in a bar, probably dancing, with your shirt most likely unbuttoned and all sweaty and you'll have some girl all up in your business and you won't care about the creases in your shirt." 

"All up in my business?" 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm ready now, let's go." 

They side-along with a _crack_ , leaving their flat behind them hollow and apparating to the middle of some alleyway Albus is sure he has never been to in his life. "God I hate apparating in London," Scorpius says, looking at the garbage bins around them as if they offend him. "I always feel like if I don't concentrate enough I'm going to end up in Buckingham Palace." 

"Well good job today mate. Although, I question why they even gave you your licence if you're genuinely concerned with mixing up Buckingham Palace with a dirty alley in... where are we anyway?"

Scorpius ignores him. 

"Where are we going?" Albus asks, jogging slightly to keep up with his blonde best friend. "I thought we were just going to Diagon?" 

Scorpius grins wickedly. "Much better." When they round the corner his grin turns triumphant, stretching his arms open wide in front of him and almost hitting two people in the process. "Ta da!" He says, pointing at what looks like nothing but an old abandoned building. In fact, the only reason Albus knows it can't be empty is due to the line of over fifty people waiting to enter a dingy, faded red door guarded by a man all in black. 

Albus looks at the people in line, at the people all around them on the street. Laughing, normal, yelling, normal, talking, normal people. The girls wear short skirts and the boys wear tight jeans and they all stand in a line, almost one by one, as if the red door holds the most exciting night of their lives behind it. 

"Is this.. a muggle bar?" 

Scorpius laughs like a kid hopped up on lollies. "Why yes it is, Mr Potter. Are you excited?" 

Albus frowns. "I don't know... isn't this like, dangerous?" 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "Don't be absurd. We love muggles! What do you think is going to happen? We get drunk and start shooting magic out of our wands unintentionally?" 

Albus rolls his eyes right back. "No. I just mean, this is like, foreign territory for us." 

"Hardly. We live right in the heart of muggle London. We shop at Tesco for crying out loud. I'm sure we can handle having some of their alcohol and dancing with them." 

Albus thinks about it, takes two seconds to weigh up the pro's and con's and stops when Scorpius punches him in the arm. "Stop thinking," Scorpius says, "enjoy your birthday. Besides, everyone should be here already." 

"Everyone?" Albus asks, letting himself be dragged along by the elbow towards the red door. 

"Yeah. Friends and what not. Tonight is all about you, my friend." 

Albus wants to say, _"we don't have any friends"_ , but he chooses against it. Instead asking, "don't we have to line up or something?" 

But Scorpius isn't listening to him. Instead he's slipping out his wand from his back pocket and muttering a spell under his breath directed at the man all in black. They walk through the red door without so much of a glance. 

"That was dangerous," Albus practically grumbles and Scorpius ignores him. 

Once they're inside, Albus starts to hear it. It's like a heart beat, at first, a slow pulse that begins to pump its way through his toes and up his veins. The bass is overwhelming, a constant drum, and as they start to climb the stairs in the almost dark, Albus starts to feel it reverberate in his chest. 

"Ready?" Scorpius asks when they reach the top of the stairs, not even waiting for an answer as he pulls back the dark burgundy curtain. 

It's so... _loud_. That's all Albus can think. The place is packed to the brim with muggles of all shapes and sizes, all moving their bodies together in time with the deep rhythm of the bass that still continues to thump its way through Albus's skin. Someone screams excitedly to his left, another yells to his mates at the bar, all trying to be heard above the music. It's a hot, loud, sticky mess and Albus has never seen anything like it. 

Scorpius looks like a kid at Christmas. 

"This is going to be so much fun," he says. Well, at least that's what Albus thinks he says. "Come on," he yells, louder this time, "we have a booth." 

Scorpius grabs him by the hand and pulls him along, gliding effortlessly through the bodies around them like water. Albus does everything he can not to trip over his own feet and cause someone to spill their drink. They round the corner just off the dance floor, climbing a small set of stairs that opens up into a patio that looks over the entire club. Large, private booths line the wall, no more than six and all packed with people. Some groups of girls, some groups of men, and most with both. One girl is dancing on the table of her booth, her dress short and tight and blacker than night. She catches Albus's eye, smiling at him wickedly and gesturing with her hand for him to come and join. All Albus can do is stare, stare at the way her hips glide back and forth and her blonde hair flows down to her waist. 

"He'll join you later, love!" Scorpius calls and the girl laughs, saying something like, "that's a promise," in return. Albus let's himself be pulled away, down the line of booths to the one at the very end. 

"Albus!" A voice calls, and Albus doesn't have time to react before his sister Lily is jumping into his arms. Albus catches her, like he has a million times before, and squeezes her tightly. "Happy Birthday big brother," she says, lips pressing to his cheek. Albus sets her back down, unable to stop himself from smiling down at his sister. She really is beautiful, Albus thinks, a stunning picture all in red and growing too fast for him to even catch up. He has always loved his baby sister, right to his very core. To Albus, Lily would always need protecting, whether it was the monsters under her bed when she was five or men that made her cry when she was twenty-two. Albus would fight the world for her.

"Thanks Lil," he says, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. "I didn't know you were coming?" 

"Yeah Scorpius invited me and of course I had to come!" 

"Mum and Dad aren't here, are they?" 

She laughs, a beautiful melodic sound above the noise. "Of course not. Can you imagine them in a place like this?" 

Albus imagines it, for two seconds, and laughs. "Definitely not." 

Lily takes him by the shoulders and sits him down roughly into the soft leather couch that wraps around in a semi circle. About five people call his name at once, faces of friends and family smiling at him behind their drinks. Rose is there, Hugo too, and the smattering of friends he's made over his time at work. A chorus of "Happy Birthday's" and "good to see you's" bombard him and before he knows it he's had a drink placed in his hand. 

Albus didn't even have a chance to properly look at all the face around him until the body next to him moves in close to whisper in his ear. "Happy Birthday, Al." 

Albus's mouth goes dry. "Thanks, James," he smiles weakly. "I didn't know you were going to be here." 

He chances a glance sideways and feels like he's been punched roughly in the stomach. The funny thing is, James actually _has_  punched him in the stomach before, when they were just boys, and Albus can't tell the feeling apart. 

Albus should be used to how beautiful James is, he really should. But he's not. It's been a month since they last saw each other, and his hair seems wavier, his eyes brighter and teeth whiter. He leans in close again, so that Albus can feel his soft lips brush against his cheek. "It's your Birthday. I need to give you your present." 

James's hand squeezes his thigh and Albus raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what might that be." 

"Surprise," James grins around the rim of his glass, taking a drink and removing his grip. 

Albus tries to shake his brother from his mind, just for the moment. _This is not the time, nor the place,_  he thinks, taking an impossibly large swig from the glass placed in his hand. It burns, Merlin, it burns, and Albus can't help but cough. "What the fuck is that?" He asks no one in particular, earning a few laughs. 

"It's vodka," Lily giggles next to him. "It's a muggle alcohol." 

"Yeah, well, it tastes like shit." He drinks it all the same. 

As the night progresses, Albus's mind grows hazy. He can't say much for vodkas taste, but he can certainly vouch for its effectiveness. He starts dancing at one point, taking the closest girl near him into his arms and smiling when she laughs against his neck. "It's my Birthday," he tells her and she smiles sweetly. "Well then, my love, I guess I better give you a Birthday present." She kisses him, quick and soft and they try to move with the music at the same time. Albus can taste her lipstick, like a mixture of berries and perfume and he can feel it staining his mouth red. Albus is dizzy, so dizzy, and he can't keep his balance when a hand grabs him roughly by the shoulder. 

"What the f -" 

"Excuse me dear," James interrupts, his hand curling around Albus's bicep. "Do you mind if I steal my brother away, just for a moment?"

The girl looks flustered, nodding like she doesn't really understand and reluctantly let's go of Albus's waist. Albus wants to say something to her, tell her to stay where she is, but James is dragging him away roughly before he even has a chance. 

"James, seriously, what the f-" 

James interrupts him, for the second to time this evening, but this time he does it by shoving Albus against the wall closest to them and kissing him with bruising force. 

Albus let's James kiss him, just like he has a thousand times before. He can't help but kiss back, like he always does; finding purchase on James's shirt to keep himself anchored. James's kiss is rough, so rough, and almost more desperate than ever before. 

"James," Albus tried to gasp, his brothers teeth grazing along his jaw. "People," he tries again, "there's people." 

"They're muggles, Al," James reasons, shoving him harder against the wall. "No one know us here." 

"My friends do, our cousins do. Our _sister_ does."

Arguing is made near impossible with James's lips on his neck. Albus wishes he had the strength to say no, just once. 

"I don't like seeing you with other people," James says, covering Albus's body with his own as if to shield him for everyone and everything. "I've never had to see if before." 

This time Albus relents, using his grip on James's shirt to shove him back and create space between them. James's hands don't leave the curve of his neck, the dip of his waist. 

"Fuck you," Albus says. "I have to see you with Isabelle, all the time, all the fucking time and you can't handle watching me make out with someone for two minutes?" 

James laughs, which is far more infuriating than anything else he could have possibly said or done. Albus tries to leave, tries to shove James off him completely but James simply won't allow it. 

"Let me go, James," he tries, "I don't want to do this right now." 

"Al, please," James replies softly, carding his fingers through Albus's hair, "I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry." 

Albus hates James. Sometimes he hates him so much it makes his skin crawl. Now is one of those times. It's how James manages to hurt him in the deepest way possible, in small, tiny ways that crack Albus apart from the inside. Yet, it always keeps him coming back for more.

James moves to kiss him again, and Albus moves to probably let him but the moment is stopped.

"No. Fucking. Way." 

As if a trance had befallen him, Albus is ripped from it violently. James steps back from him, creating a distance that Albus hates himself for missing, but can't dwell on it too much for the moment. Scorpius is standing there, just to the left of them and he looks as if he's seen violent bloody murder. 

"Scorpius." Albus's voice is so weak. "It's not what it looks like." 

Except, it's exactly what it looks like. It couldn't be more clear. 

Scorpius backs away, disappearing around the corner and back into the crowd of people. Albus wants to run after him, to stop him and explain, but his legs feel as if they've been concreted to the floor. 

"Fuck," James says, almost grunts. "This is all my fault, isn't it?" 

"You think?" Albus spits back at him. He opens his mouth to argue more but James reaches out to grab his hand and without so much as a warning Albus is dragged through space and dumped unceremoniously in the middle of his bedroom. 

"What the fuck, James!" He shouts, shoving James hard in the chest. "Don't side-along me without any warning like that! Fuck." 

"Sorry, Al, I am," he defends, "but I had to get out of there. I couldn't hear myself think." 

Albus agrees but doesn't say it. Instead saying, "this was a stupid place to bring us. What if Scorpius comes back here? It won't exactly help the situation if you're here." 

As if to answer his question, James quickly points his wand at the door, casting spells that make Albus's bedroom more securely and privately protected than Fort Knox. 

"Everyone's going to wonder where we are, you know," Albus says. 

"It's fine. They're all getting so drunk anyway they won't notice who leaves when." 

Albus collapses back onto his bed with a groan, covering his arm over his eyes and hoping the universe splits around him and swallow him whole. This had to be, by far, the worst Birthday he'd ever had. 

"It's funny," James muses, "the only time I've been here is when Dad and I helped you moved in. It looks so different now." 

Albus doesn't have the heart for polite conversation right now. He's more interested in figuring out ways he can corner Scorpius and Obliviate him. When the sound of James's footsteps still, Albus peaks a glance from behind his arm. "What are you looking at?" He asks James's back. 

James turns around smiling, holding a photo frame in his hand that makes Albus impossibly embarrassed. "Oh," he says, sitting up quickly, "don't mind that." 

"I didn't even know this photo existed," James muses, trailing his fingers across the glass. Albus doesn't need to see it to know exactly which photo it is. It was taken when he and James were just boys, Albus no more than seven. It shows him jumping onto James's back, followed subsequently by the two boys toppling over into the grass and the leaves, laughing all the while. Albus loves that photo, he refuses to ever move the frame from his dresser. 

"Sorry, I know it might be weird," he says, and James frowns at him instantly. 

"Why on earth would it be weird? I think it's incredible." 

Albus rolls his eyes and looks down at his hands. "Yeah, sure." 

He can hear James place the photo back down on his dresser before he takes one short step to be right in front of Albus. His hand cups Albus's jaw and tilts his gaze upward. "You know, it's okay for us to be brothers, right?" He says, his touch gentle. "It's not weird for you to have photos of your family." 

"Yeah but I'm not fucking the rest of my family, am I?" 

James's hand cups his jaw, his fingernails lightly scratching his cheek. " _Now_ you're going to have a moral dilemma about it? Eight years later?" 

Albus grabs James's wrist, the one that's right next to his face, and has every intention of shoving him off. Yet, when the moment comes, his grips goes frozen. "It's not that," he says after a minute. He can feel James's pulse beneath his thumb. "It's not that." 

"Yeah, then," James says slowly, taking the hand Albus still holds to place it on his brothers chest, pushing him back onto the mattress and climbing on top of him. "What is it?" 

Albus is so weak. "I just... I feel like everything is going to change now. I _feel_  it changing." 

James rolls his hips and Albus has to bite his tongue to try and pretend it doesn't affect him. "Because Scorpius knows?" James asks. 

"Yes. And no," Albus tries. "Because, I always convinced myself that if it didn't really exist outside of us, then, it didn't exist at all. That what we were doing, wasn't real. But the thought of someone else knowing..." 

"Not real, huh?" James smirks, grabbing his shirt by the hem and pulling it over his head in one swift movement. His hands run up Albus's chest, inch by inch, and Albus shivers with anticipation. 

"James," he attempts to speak, "stop, I -" 

"No _you_  stop." He grabs Albus's wrists, as if to emphasis his point. "We've been doing this for a really long time, Al, and I don't want to give it up. I can't give it up." 

"And whys that?" Albus challenges. " _Why_  can't you give it up?" 

James facade breaks, for just a second, his face broken in confusion. Emerald eyes flicker over Albus's body and Albus holds his breath as if the answer is going to ruin him either way. "Because, because it's fun. We have fun," he says, finally. His voice too soft for James Potter. 

Albus has never had much courage. Not when he was just a child, nor a teenager and certainly not now. James was always the courageous one, especially when they were kids and he'd always take the brunt of his parents over broken vases and ruined furniture. Albus sometimes hated himself too much for how easily he allowed himself to be pushed over, won over. He wished, just once, he had the same courage in his blood that ran through his Father and his Mother. The same blood that ran through James. But Albus has never been that person. Never been that Potter. 

Except maybe now. 

"James, maybe there's a reason I have a photo of you on my dresser."

James's brow instantly knits tight, like Albus has proposed him with the worlds hardest charms theory. "I don't understand," he says, making him appear so much smaller. 

Albus sits up slowly, placing a hand against the small of James's back to keep them both balanced and keep James in his lap as they're face to face. "Think about it, James," he says. "I've never been in a serious relationship. I can't stand seeing you _in_  a serious relationship. The thought of you going home to Isabelle... it kills me." 

James holds Albus's face, almost cradles it and brushes his thumb over Albus's bottom lip. "Don't," he whispers, "don't do this." 

"James. I can't. I can't just ignore how I -" 

James silences him by kissing him. Albus hates how he feels this way. He wishes he could take all the thoughts and feelings from his heart, pluck them one by one and then them into dust in his fingertips. It wasn't meant to be this way, it was never meant to be this way. But Albus began to accept it a long time ago, it's as if nothing in his life has ever been so clear. It has always been there, ever since that first summer, ever since the first time James pulled Albus tightly against him and moaned his name into his skin. It's what causes Albus to miss James those times they're apart, with an ache so deep in his chest it kept him up at night. It's how he feels when James smiles at him, when he laughs, when he takes Albus's hands and places his lips against the palms. It's what stops Albus from getting close to anyone else, no matter how he's tried because it doesn't feel the same, it _can't_ feel the same. It's all of this, everything and more, that makes Albus know he's been in love with James for a very long time. 

And that knowledge, will destroy everything. 

"James," he sighs against his brothers mouth, "I have to tell you." 

"Al, we _can't_." 

"James, we already have." 

James looks like he's close to breaking point, right on the edge of tears and Albus can't think of anything to say or do that would make this situation less painful. 

He opens his mouth to speak, to say what, he's not sure. James interrupts him before he gets a chance. 

"I'm going to ask Isabelle to marry me." 

  


Albus can count on one hand how many times he has had his heart broken.

One) When his Pygmy Puff, Gary, died when he was ten.

Two) During his sixth year at Hogwarts, when Honeydukes decided to close down indefinitely. (They reopened the following year, due to overwhelming demand.)

Three) When the Holyhead Harpies made it to the finals, two years ago, only to have the win snatched out from underneath their noses by the Falmouth Falcons. Both Albus and Ginny still feel particularly raw about that one.

And four) This moment, right now.

Albus panics, silently, because he feels like he can’t breathe. He won’t let James see, in fact, he schools his face into such a placid expression it’s akin to going catatonic. _Don’t feel_ , his brain whispers, trying to send the message through his veins. Don’t feel 

“Albus,” James says softly, emotion written over every feature. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Albus says quickly. Voice dead. “Why should you be? Of course you’d ask your girlfriend to marry you. Your beautiful, lovely, normal girlfriend. Did you think I’d ever expect you to choose me over her?”

“It’s not a choice, Al.” James’s eyes are wet, they’re shining.

Albus laughs, barely there. “But it is, James. You can’t have us both.”

And it’s so clear to Albus, now that he’s said it, now that the thought is making its way through his blood stream. It’s not a choice. Of course it’s not, Albus thinks, it was never a choice, because it was something that never should have been an option. It’s clear, so clear, and Albus feels like he is feeling the gravity of what they’ve done sink down on him for the very first time in eight years.

Albus doesn’t want to be the choice, not anymore.

“I think you should go,” Albus says and James’s fingers squeeze his waist roughly.

“Albus –“

“Go, James.”

James doesn’t argue further and Albus is grateful. Albus isn’t sure what he wants to do, but he’d rather anything than this moment right now. He lets James climb out of his lap and put his t-shirt back on, he lets James stand in the middle of the room for a moment, clearly unsure what he’s meant to do next and he lets James lean forward to kiss him, barely there, on the forehead. “Happy Birthday, Al,” James whispers, letting his lips linger for a second longer than they should before he steps back and apparates from the room without any hesitation.

All the while, Albus stays silent.

 

\--

  


Albus allows it to destroy him, it’s impossible for him not to. The more he tells himself it doesn’t matter, the more it does. He feels sick, for months, like a flu he can’t shake and he starts to believe he’ll always feel this way. Like drowning. Sinking. Unable to breathe.

It scares Albus how easily he’s able to act okay, but maybe that’s because he’s always been a good liar.

He knows that Scorpius doesn’t trust him anymore. They act like strangers around one another in their house, with a crack between them that’s never been spoken of. Albus had waited for Scorpius to come down on him, to demand what was going on and search for answers in a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. Instead, on the morning after Albus’s twenty-fifth Birthday, Scorpius had simply looked up from his cereal and muttered, “hey.”

Sometimes, Albus tells himself that Scorpius was just so drunk that he doesn’t remember what he saw that night. But sometimes, Albus knows that’s not true. Scorpius looks at him different, just slightly, like Albus is someone he doesn’t recognise anymore and it’s driving Albus insane. He would bring it up, hatch it out between them but that would mean unstitching the fine thread on his heart he has tried so hard to keep intact.

Months go by, Albus isn’t sure how many, and he allows it to destroy him.

Ginny knows something is wrong, Harry doesn’t (typical), and Albus stops going home to see his parents. He tells them he’s busy, he’s tired, he’s stressed and he doesn’t have the time. Sometimes Ginny comes to the shop in Diagon Alley, insisting she needs to see George or Ron but she is hardly subtle in the way she stares Albus down and asks how he is going in the process. Albus hates hurting his family, he hates ignoring Lily’s floo’s and his cousin’s owls, but he can’t help it.

In December, when the frost is starting to creep like vines over the windows, Albus gets the invitation to James and Isabelle’s wedding.

Albus allows it to destroy him.

 

\--

Albus does the one thing he thinks is wrong, hoping it will make it right. He tells someone.

He owls Teddy, for the first time in months, asking if he’d be free to “hang out.” Teddy’s reply comes so fast, almost like he’d been waiting to hear from him and simply says, _“My place. Tonight. 8pm.”_

It’s an exponentially bad idea, but Albus feels like if he doesn’t say something soon the weight on his chest will crush him into fine pieces of dust. So when he stands on Teddy’s doorstep, at 7:59 and flecks of snow start to settle on his nose, he tells himself it’s okay. (It’s not).

Teddy opens the door before Albus can knock. “Albus!” he shouts happily, his hair a bright shade of turquoise and his cheeks pink. “Come in! So great to see you!”

Albus tries to match his enthusiasm, but fails. “Hey Teddy, it’s really nice to see you.”

Teddy hugs him in the doorway, squeezes him tight and Albus let’s his heart rattle in its cage. Albus wishes he could go back eight years, wishes he could change all of this and be a boy again. But Albus has learnt his lesson with time travel and he’s not a fool. Maybe only slightly. 

“So, what’s up?” Teddy asks when he collapses into his lumpy green sofa, patting the spot opposite him with a small sigh.

Albus sits. “Um, not much.”

“You Potter’s, you’re so daft. All of you. I thought just Harry and James were the most stupid ones.”

Albus flinches at James’s name. He can’t help it. “Uh, okay,” he says.

Teddy rolls his eyes. “I know something is wrong and you’re clearly letting it eat you up inside and you only come to me when you need someone to tell you everything is alright.”

“That’s not true,” Albus says slowly and Teddy laughs.

“Albus, I’m not offended you only come to me when you feel like you’re in trouble. In fact, I’m honoured that I’m the one you want to talk to.” He says it with a slight smile and Albus can’t handle it.

“You’re going to hate me,” he says without thinking, his voice small and Teddy scoffs.

“Albus Potter, I would never hate you.”

“You will,” Albus says, firmer this time. “Teddy, you will.”

“Okay, try me.”

Albus stands because he can’t bear to sit. He feels fidgety, like he has a sudden burst of energy and the only way to cope is to let his legs pace around the room. Teddy doesn’t say anything, just stares and Albus shifts from foot to foot in front of the fire place. There are photos of him on the mantelpiece, photos of his family, of him, Teddy and James all smiling brightly for the camera. Albus looks away.

“Seriously, Albus, what is it? Did you murder someone? Rob a bank?" 

Albus knows Teddy is only joking but he snaps all the same. “No. Shut up. Don’t try and guess.”

“Fine,” Teddy says, “but stop pacing and just tell me.”

Albus does, he stops, taking a deep breath and watching the way the flames lick the logs on the fire. It’s mesmerising, the way the orange dances and forces him to still his shaking fingers. He starts slowly. “Have you ever done something so horrible, so horrible, that you actually start to doubt whether or not you were ever a good person?”

“Albus, you’re not a bad –“

“No, stop, don’t – just, not until you’ve heard what I have to say, okay?”

“Okay,” Teddy says, dragging out the two syllables.

“I’ve done something terrible, Teddy. I’ve been doing something terrible for a really long time and I don’t know what to do.”

“Albus, whatever it is, I can help you. I promise, I’ll help you.”

Albus shakes his head. “I know. I know you want to help, but you can’t. Nothing will ever make what I've done okay." 

"Al, you're scaring me." 

No one but James has called Albus "Al" in so long, it doesn't sit right. Albus needs to get the words out, before he panics and starts to say them wrong. But where to begin? Perhaps, at the beginning. 

"Do you remember the summer you came to stay with us? I was sixteen." 

"Of course, it was a tonne of fun." 

Albus just hums in agreement. 

"But what does that have to do with this?" Teddy asks. 

"That's when "this" all started." 

Albus can hear the apprehension in Teddy's voice. "But.. that was so long ago? I can't - shit - I'm trying to think. I can't even remember anything drastic happening that summer?" 

"It wasn't drastic. Not at the time. Well, it sort of was, but I was so young and I just went along with it and -" Albus stops. He's speaking too quickly. Getting off track. He breathes. "I'm scared, Teddy." 

He can hear Teddy stand from the couch, he can hear the short steps, one, two, three, until Teddy is right by his side. A hand squeezes his shoulder gently and he can make out Teddy's reflection in the glass of the photo frames. 

"Albus, _please_." Teddy is desperate. 

Albus shouldn't have come. He should have stayed home and kept his heart stitched together. 

When he talks, the words are barely audible above the flames, but he knows Teddy will hear them. 

 "For eight years, since that summer; I've been sleeping with James." 

 

\-- 

 

"Come on, quickly, or we're going to miss it."

"Ok could we not have apparated like at least four hundred metres closer?" 

"Quit complaining. Hurry up." 

James groans loudly, far too loudly and Albus laughs. He grabs his brothers hand to drag him forward the last few paces, planting his feet in the grass and pulling James into his hold. 

"See?" Albus smiles, turning them slightly so they can see what they came for. 

They stand At the top of Primrose Hill, with London sprawled out in front of them falling under sunsets blanket. A burst of the days final sun sits on the roof of St. Pauls, the Eye spins slowly with it's cages dipped in orange and if Albus looks closely he can see Tower Bridge starting to fall into the first dips of night blue. James puts an arm around Albus's waist, drawing him in close and kissing his messy hair. 

"Okay," James says softly, "worth it." 

Albus's grin is triumphant. "I knew you'd like it. I feel like I can see all of London from here, it's so pretty when it's all orange, red and blue." 

They stand, just the way they are, for a small while longer. They only movement made is the rise and fall of their chests and James's hand now carding through Albus's hair. It's so comfortable, so peaceful, Albus wonders how this could ever be wrong.

"Hey," James says eventually, the same voice he uses when he's waking Albus up in the morning. "I wouldn't change anything." 

He doesn't say any more and Albus doesn't need him to. What he means is clear and all Albus can do is pull him in closer. "Me neither," he whispers, taking his gaze from the canvas before him to turn and look directly into James's eyes. They're brown, but so soft, like if the sun were to hit James's face just right they'd turn gold. He's smiling at Albus, holding him by the waist with a gentle promise to never let go. Albus doesn't want him to. 

"You're the most important thing in my life, Al," James says and Albus responds by wrapping his arms around the back of James's neck like vines. 

Sometimes Albus can't even begin to put how he feels into words. He feels like if he tries they'll become twisted and muddled and he'll end up fumbling his way through something that he can never truly express. So he does the only thing that makes sense; he kisses James.

 

\--

 

Teddy steps back. He removes his hand. He creates a distance between them that Albus feels right through to his fingertips. He’s burned Teddy, and there’s no taking it back.

“Albus,” he says, his voice so low. There’s warning to it. Horror.

Albus allows himself to turn and face Teddy, to have courage, for once in his life and look the man in the eyes. Teddy won’t realise it, but his hair has turned darker, melting into a dark shade of blue that hovers on the edge of black. Teddy can’t help it, the way his mood reflects on his features. A trait from his mother, Albus remembers being told once.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Albus shakes his head and Teddy takes another step back until the backs of his legs hit the sofa. He all but collapses down onto it, like the wind has been knocked out of him.

Albus lets Teddy work through this, if that’s what it is he is doing, and stays silent. He watches Teddy’s face intently, watching the way it twists into confusion and horror and disgust and every other emotion Albus had prepared himself for. Well, he thought he had prepared for it.

“Sorry, Albus, I’m going to need a minute.”

Albus doesn’t reply and Teddy stands, not so much as glancing back in his direction as he walks silently out of the room. Albus waits. He breathes. He listens to the sounds of Teddy moving around in the kitchen and he tries not to hold his breath.

When Teddy returns, four minutes and fifteen seconds (Albus had counted) later, he’s carrying a tray of tea. One pot, two cups and a selection of biscuits. He places it down too harshly on the coffee table, causing the cups to rattle on their saucers.

“Sit,” he commands, not looking Albus in the eye. Albus complies whilst Teddy begins to pour the tea. Tea is probably the last thing Albus could possibly feel like but he knows this is Teddy’s coping mechanism.

“Okay,” the older man says, pushing a cup in Albus’s direction. “Talk.”

“I don’t know where to –"

“From the start,” Teddy interrupts, “I need to know everything. From the beginning. Start talking.”

So Albus does.

He talks and talks and talks until his mouth goes dry. He tells Teddy everything, right from the beginning, about his nightmare and how James got into his bed to comfort him. He tells Teddy about that first time they kissed, how he panicked and James told him everything was going to be alright. He tells the story of Christmas, the first one, when he let James fuck him for the first time. He tells him of all the Christmas’s following, how they would sleep together in his old bedroom whilst their family was just down the hall. He tells him about all the times they would meet up over the years, about how they would rent a room in a hotel for the weekend just so they could sleep together (and sleep together and sleep together and sleep together). He tells Teddy about all the fights, all the tough times, of all the lies and all the anguish it caused both of them over the years. He tells him about his twenty-fifth Birthday, about the club, about Scorpius and most of all about when they went back to Albus’s flat. He tells him how James told him he was proposing to Isabelle and how James refused to listen to him. Because, he tells Teddy how he’s in love with James; how he’s been in love with James for a very long time and James didn’t want to hear it.

By the end of it, Albus is crying and the tea has gone cold.

He collapses in on himself, dragging his knees close to his chest and letting the grief consume him. This is the first time he’s cried about it, truly and honestly cried, and he feels like an utter fool.

Teddy stays silent, for a very long time, but Albus doesn’t mind. In fact, he’d rather Teddy silent; it helps him pretend that none of this is real.

Except, it is. Nothing will change that.

“Albus,” Teddy says finally, after what feels like hours. His voice is so scratchy, like a vinyl that’s been spun too many times. “Albus,” he says again, “look at me.”

Albus does, and regrets it instantly.

“Albus, you’re not a bad person.”

He scoffs, but the tears get caught in the back of his throat and it comes out more like a choke. “How can you say that?” he says, trying to clear his throat.

“Because it’s true,” Teddy insists, his gaze intense. “What happened to you, when you were sixteen, it was abuse.”

The glass around Albus’s heart shatters.

“What? No. Teddy, no, you don’t –"

“Albus, no, you must listen,” he reaches out to take Albus’s arm, but Albus can’t help but flinch at the contact. Teddy is quick to move back. “James took advantage of you. He was an adult, you weren’t, he knew what he was doing and you didn’t understand. He convinced you what you were doing was okay.”

“Teddy,  _no,”_ Albus tries, “it’s not like that. I was  _sixteen,_ not  _six._ I knew the ramifications.” At least, he thought he did.

“I heard what you said, Al. You were confused, you knew it was wrong, but James  _convinced_ you it was okay. He’s been convincing you it was okay, all this time.”

Albus shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”

“What did he used to say to you, when you would question it was wrong?”

“Teddy, I –"

“Tell me, Albus.”

“He used to say, it was okay as long as it was only physical. That it wasn’t  _wrong_ if it was just sex.”

Teddy looks like he’s going to cry. Or punch something. Maybe both. “Don’t you see how he used you, Al? He took advantage of you all this time because he’s your brother and he could make you go along with what he wanted. You falling in love with him was just all part of the plan to keep you on his hook. He had sex with you, when you were only a minor, that’s... Al, that’s rape.”

“It  _wasn’t_ rape,” Albus says through gritted teeth. He feels sick. “I wanted it, Teddy. I’ve always wanted it. I love him.”

"Al, you're not meant to love him that way, you -" 

"Don't you think I know that?" Albus snaps. "I'm not a fucking idiot, Teddy. Why do you think I'm here? This is not _easy_ for me, okay? I'm not meant to love James like that, I know that. It's sick. It's so sick. What we've been doing this whole time is totally fucked up and I've always known that. I've never thought it was normal, I've never thought it was right; I just tried to convince myself it was. When I realised I loved him, on my twenty-fifth birthday, that's when everything changed. I always told myself it was okay because there weren't feelings. But fucking hell, there's been feelings from the start." He takes a breath, he slows down. "You're wrong about James. I'm sorry, but you are. He's a terrible person, we both are, I won't deny that. He's done terrible things and I know he can't be forgiven for that but I'm right there with him. He's never forced me to do something I don't want to do. If I had of stopped him, that very first night, he would have listened. Teddy, he would have always listened, if I said no." 

Teddy is shaking his head slightly, looking so torn. The thread on Albus's heart has come undone. 

"Why did you come Albus?" Teddy asks. 

"Because I need... I don't know." Help? 

"You want my help but you're not willing to take it." 

Albus frowns. "Well, I -" 

"I'm telling you the facts Al, right to your face, and you're refusing to hear them." 

"Because you're _wrong_." 

"Fuck, Al, I'm trying to _help_  you! I could have turned on you and kicked you out of my house but -" 

"Well then do it Teddy, fucking do it, kick me out because I think I'd rather have you hate me than have you think - think what you do." 

Albus stands quickly, biting his tongue to stop himself from yelling or crying or maybe both. But Teddy is quick to grab his hand. 

"No, Al, don't go," he says quietly. "I don't want you to leave." 

Albus lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and looks into Teddy's eyes. The older man is sincere, Albus can see that, but it doesn't stop him from placing up walls around himself faster than he could care to stop it. Regardless, he sits.

"I don't care if you judge me," Albus says. "It would be strange if you didn't. But I just need you to know that you're wrong about James. Please, tell me you understand that." 

"I can't say that, Albus. I'm sorry but I can't. You've told me your story and I've told you how I feel about it.”

“But, you  _know_ him, you know James. Do you honestly think he’s some manipulating predator?” Albus feels sick.

“I  _thought_ I knew him,” Teddy replies. “And believe me, it’s not great being wrong about someone who you thought was a brother. Someone you’ve known nearly your whole life.”

A sudden dread fills Albus, a thought that hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. “You’re not going to... Please tell me you’re not going to confront him.”

Teddy runs a hand over his face. “No,” he says finally, “I won’t. Honestly, I don’t think I can see James for awhile.”

“This is all my fault,” Albus says miserably. “I shouldn’t have told you. You’ve been so close with James for so long and I just –"

“No. Stop right there. This is not your fault. I’m glad you told me. What happens between me and James is my decision, okay?”

“Okay,” Albus says, even though he hardly agrees. “Just promise me you’ll tell me first if you’re going to see him.”

“I promise,” Teddy says softly. “But, there’s something I’ll have to do... Please don’t let it upset you.”

Albus’s stomach does a flip. “What?”

“James asked me to be his best man for his wedding. I will have to tell him no.”

“Teddy –"

“Sorry Al, this is my decision. Even if it wasn’t you he was sleeping with, I could not condone being best man at a wedding where the groom is cheating on the bride.”

Albus puts his head in his hands. “We never meant to hurt Isabelle."

Teddy doesn’t respond and he doesn’t need to. Albus can practically  _feel_ the judgement radiating from him. Albus decides he doesn’t want to speak anymore, that he’s done with opening his mouth and making things worse. That’s the way it’s always been, for Albus, as if everything he touches (or even attempts to touch) turns to ash and dust.

“I’m going to go,” he says finally, and this time Teddy doesn’t protest. He walks Albus to the door, the two of them in complete silence and when Albus reaches the front step, he hesitates. He should say something, he knows he should, but the words seem to get lost at the back of the throat.

Teddy doesn’t speak either, instead he chooses to grab Albus roughly and pull him into a hug so tight it squeezes his chest. Albus lets out a breath, which comes out more like a shudder and grips tightly onto Teddy by the soft knit of his jumper that bunches between his fists. It’s the first time, in months, that anyone has actually touched Albus, truly touched him. Quick handshakes, clapped hands on his shoulder and the rare one armed friendly hug do not count. He didn’t realise how much he missed it; human contact.

Albus is fed up with crying, so he doesn’t, but a tearless sob wracks its way through his chest all the same. Teddy squeezes tighter and Albus feels like this might be the only thing holding him together. Like cheap, Tesco branded glue.

But all things come unstuck, in the end. 

  


\--

  


The Potter-Weasley’s held a wedding rehearsal dinner the night before James and Isabelle’s wedding. It was Spring now, the leaves on the tree’s bright and green and the flowers pink and vivid . The air was warm, like a night that was on the brink of summer but not quite close enough to cause discomfort. The Burrow was alight with people and noise and colour and only the closest of friends and family sat around the large, long table that stretched out along the grass of the Burrow’s backyard. Rose Weasley had enchanted small, fluttering balls of light to fly around the trees and above their heads, illuminating everyone’s face in a soft, gold glow. An ancient record player (dug up from the shed by Arthur Weasley) crooned old jazz songs that scratched on every turn of the vinyl and it accompanied the constant sounds of laughter and easy chatter. The food was delicious, the night was warm, the atmosphere was joyous and Albus felt like he was dying.

It was the first time he’d seen James in  _months._  Albus had spent weeks trying to come up with some possible excuse for not going, but he knew that even if he’d had the best excuse in the world his mum would still be grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him to the Burrow if she had to. So, Albus decided to simply endure it.

Seeing James again was like experiencing blunt force trauma to the heart. It was painful and crippling and Albus felt like his chest was going to cave in on itself. James looked at him, physically looked at him with his own bronze eyes, for the span of about ten seconds and he gave absolutely nothing away.  It was like he was looking at Albus, but not really. As if Albus were just slightly out of sight, like if he didn’t concentrate his gaze would drift to the spot behind his head. James looked, for ten seconds, and then it was like it didn’t even matter.

James was the life of the party, all night, and Albus couldn’t help but watch him. He entertained and he glowed and people just simply couldn’t stop telling him how  _happy_ they were for him. Albus didn’t talk to him, of course he didn’t, instead he chose to sit between Rose and Victorie and push his peas around on the plate whilst people talked around him. Teddy kept shooting him glances, his eyes essentially screaming, “ _are you okay?”_ and Albus just looked away. Honestly, he couldn’t believe Teddy had even come.

At one point in the evening, Isabelle came and wrapped her arms around Albus from behind at the table. She squeezed him tightly, the sweet smell of her perfume invading his senses and he had no choice but to engage in polite conversation. She told him how she missed him, how she was sad he was never around anymore and that she hoped he was okay with her marrying his older brother. Isabelle was beautiful. She truly was. Her hair was thick and dark and long and it ran it waves down past her pale, narrow shoulders.  Her eyes were green and her teeth were white and when she smiled at Albus it was kind, so kind. 

When she kissed him on the cheek, a glass down the table from them smashed. Everyone turned to look, things became muffled and it was James who spoke quickly. "Don't mind me everyone!" He laughed. "Still as clumsy as ever with grandmas fine glassware!" Everyone joined him in a small flutter of laughter and things went back to normal in twenty seconds flat. 

"My silly husband to-be," Isabelle smiled, giving Albus's arm one finale squeeze before she turned her attention to Rose and Hugo down from him. 

James was smiling at something their Dad was saying and flicking his wand to clean up the broken shards scattered across the table. He was smiling and underneath it all, he was murderous. 

When the food was cleared and the sun had been gone for many hours, Harry Potter stumbled up from his seat and tapped his fork gently against the glass that contained the remnants of champagne. The table got quiet, even the record player dimmed and Harry held everyone's attention. 

"I would like to say a few words," he said. 

"A few! That'll be a first, mate!" Ron yelled and Hermione punched him in the arm. 

"Yes, anyway," Harry smiled, "I would like to say a few words, about my son and his beautiful bride." 

Isabelle rested her head on James's shoulder. 

"We Potter-Weasley's, we're not the easiest bunch. We get into mischief more than we can manage, we set fire to things, break things, lose things, hurt ourselves, have gone on far too many adventures and sometimes lose people along the way. But, no matter what, we love very fiercely. Most importantly, we love each other. We're family and we always will be. We're a family who fights hard and loves harder and we're so happy to have you join us, Isabelle. Let me say, James certainly doesn't deserve you." 

James laughed and Isabelle took his hand in hers. 

"You're by far the best thing that's ever happened to him," Harry continues, "and he could not be any luckier. I was worried that James would never truly grow up, that he'd spend his whole life partying and never ease my troubled mind by settling down. Well, he's surprised me. But I suppose, James has always surprised me. I'm so proud of the man you are, son, and I'll always be proud to be your Dad. In fact, sometimes I am so overwhelmed by all my beautiful children. All three of you are such wonderful, talented, generous people and I know I speak for both me and your Mum when I say that we love you all so dearly. We are truly blessed to have such lovely children, who not only have a deep love for us but also for one another." 

Albus bows his head. 

"James, I love you and I am truly so happy for you. This next chapter of your life is going to be a stunning one and I will be there for you, for both of you, every step of the way. So, if you'll all charge your glasses..." with a flick of his wrist the glasses fill themselves and everyone raises them high in the air. "To Isabelle and James!" 

"To Isabelle and James!" They all chorus loudly, Albus the only one to whisper it barely under his breath before taking a long, deep drink. 

Albus wants to go. It's like a light has been switched and it's an impulse he can't go back on. He wants to go. Go home, go to bed, go anywhere, he doesn't care. His brain tells him to bolt and his legs are itching to comply. James is hugging their Dad tightly and Isabelle is hugging their Mum and Albus wants to go. 

"Hey Rose," he says suddenly, catching his cousins attention. "I am knackered, I think the alcohol is catching up with me." 

She laughs. "You're weak, Albus Potter." 

"I know I know. I need to go to bed. But I'm going to slip off quietly ‘cause you know Mum will never let me leave if she knows. So if anyone asks just tell them I wasn't feeling well, yeah? I'll catch you tomorrow for the wedding." 

She nods and Albus squeezes her shoulder quickly as thanks. He ducks off quickly, taking the advantage of most people up and out of their chairs wandering around to hug James or to chat or in George's case; christen the dance floor. No one notices Albus leave and he's grateful, spilling away from the light and hiding in the darkness cast from the Burrow against the moonlight. 

A room has been set up for Albus, the same one he used to sleep in when he'd visit his grandparents as a child, and he escapes to it quickly. Ideally he'd apparate home, get as far away as possible, but he'd well and truly be murdered if his parents found out he is sure. 

Albus can't wait to have some peace and quiet. He needs to think, to breathe and to only have his own thoughts for company. But when he opens the door to the small room that barely fits a single bed; he is not alone.

He jumps about half a foot in the air. "Fuck, you fucking - fuck." 

James (of course it's James) sits and doesn't say a word, simply rests back on his hands and looks beyond comfortable. The room is cast in shadows, the lights from outside barely reaching the windows and bathing them in a flickering darkness. 

Once Albus's heart has calmed and his pulse returns to normal, he stares James down and folds his arms defensively across his chest. He doesn't know what James is playing at, frankly he doesn't care, because now is not the time nor the place. 

"So," Albus says, resting back against the door frame, "excited to get married tomorrow?" 

James almost _growls_ , like a damn deranged dog and glares at Albus. 

Albus can't help but laugh. "You're such a fucking idiot. We're at your _rehearsal dinner_ , your wedding is _tomorrow_ and you're getting mad at me? What a joke." 

James stands abruptly but stills the minute he's on his feet, as if he doesn't know what to do next. He's on edge, ridiculously so, and Albus can never recall a time he's seen him like this. It almost makes Albus angry; he was the one who had his heart ripped out and crushed into small pieces and yet James is the one seemingly having a mental breakdown. 

It's unfair, to say the least. 

James breathes deeply and Albus lets him work through it. 

Finally, he speaks. "I didn't think it would be this hard to see you." 

And suddenly, Albus thinks, _I didn't think it would be so nice to hear your voice again._  

Instead he chooses to say, "well I'm sorry I'm ruining your good time." 

"You can drop the act, Al." 

Albus raises an eyebrow. 

"This whole "pretending your fine" thing is really getting on my nerves." 

"Oh I'm sorry," Albus scoffs in disbelief, "do you _want_ me to be miserable? Did you think you could just ruin my fucking life and then hope I was going to never move on? You really are a nasty piece of work aren't you." 

"Albus, no," he says suddenly, stepping forward like he can't help it and wanting to reach out. But he stops himself. "Albus, no, you must understand. I don't want you to be upset. Hurting you is what's killing me! Don't you see that?" 

Albus does the only thing that makes sense. He shoves James, hard. 

His brother stumbles backwards, keeping his balance but only just. "Are you fucking serious?" He says. "Are you kidding me with this shit?" 

Albus wants to shove him again, so he does, but James is ready for it this time. He grabs Albus by the wrists, using all the strength he has as an upper hand to push them both back and in a flurry he has Albus on his back on the bed. Albus struggles, he really does, he fights and he thrashes and he resists but it doesn't help. James has him on his back, pinned down by his wrists and staring at him with a murderous gaze. "Stop," he commands and Albus pushes against him. "I said, stop!" 

Albus stops resisting but James doesn't let go. If anything, he grips tighter. 

Being so close to him, after all this time, it's overwhelming. It's utterly and positively overwhelming and Albus does something he wishes he didn't. James's hold loosens, for one second, and Albus releases his arms just to wrap them around James's shoulders and pull his body down to cover his own. He hugs James, fiercely, and James collapses by burying his face into the crook of Albus's neck. They shift so that James can wrap his arms around Albus's middle and their legs tangle. It's a moment that makes them both shudder and Albus feels betrayed by his eyes that begin to pool moisture in the corners. They breathe one another in, let their heart beats sync up, and Albus couldn't even begin to tell you where his body ended and James's begun. It's perfect and it's horrible and he doesn't know how long they lie there like that. Talking will ruin everything, Albus is sure of it, and this is a moment he doesn't want ruined. Not this time. 

"I miss you," he whispers and James holds him tighter. "Everyone's going to wonder where you are." 

"No," James whispers right back. "I said I wanted an early night, because of tomorrow." 

"You know that this is done, yeah?" Albus says. "Us.” 

"We haven't spoken since your ****Birthday. Please. I've wanted to talk to you but -"

"But what?" 

"I hurt you. I've hurt you. I didn't know what to say to you." 

"No, you know what," Albus says quickly, "we're not doing this right now. I don't want to talk to you about this right now." _Because right now is perfect and I don't want to ruin it_. 

"When are we going to talk about this then?" 

"When you're married, maybe?" It sounds petty, and it is. 

James loosens his hold; just enough so he can rest on his elbows either side of Albus's head and look down on him. He's not angry, at least not obviously, more... tired. 

"You don't know what it's like, how I feel, seeing you again." He runs a hand through Albus's hair, so gently it's almost sweet. "I've hurt you so badly." 

"You have," Albus says, because he doesn't want to lie. He doesn't want to upset James or to sadden him just to make himself feel better. He's just sick of the lies. "You did. It's been hell." 

James swallows. "Im so sorry. I didn't -" 

"No," Albus silences, putting his hand to James's jaw and holding softly. "I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't mean anything’s changed but, I just, don't want to talk about it, okay?"

James nods, his eyes searching Albus's face for answers he should just ask the question to. In the end, he doesn't speak, instead he tilts his head just slightly so that he can press their lips together. Albus's heart stutters, it betrays him, and despite everything inside of him screaming to make it stop his body responds by holding his brother tighter and kissing him back in earnest. Kissing James was like... it was like returning home after a long trip. It was that feeling of forgetting everything when you weren't there, of being able to picture it but not imagine it. But when you were home, after all that time, it was like you had never left. James's lips were soft, and warm, and he tasted like champagne and strawberries. Albus had kissed these lips a thousand times and yet it felt like the first. It always felt like the first time. 

He hates how much of a drug James is. That no matter how wrong he tells himself it is or how much he knows he'll regret it, it doesn't stop him from craving everything James has to offer him right here, right now. 

"Please," James breathes heavily, running a hand up Albus's side beneath his shirt. "Please, just give me this one night." 

Albus shakes his head, but barely stops kissing him as he talks. "We can't. Please. James, we _can't_." 

But even as he says the words, he knows they're not true. He's gone too far now. He's waited too long. The person he loves, who he has always loved, is in his atmosphere and he can't let him slip out of orbit. Not now. 

He lets James rid him of his shirt, he thinks he hears threads tear and he couldn't care less. He kicks off his shoes and tries to pull off his socks with great difficulty, until James starts laughing against his lips. Albus pouts and James smirks, taking the opportunity to place gentle, barely there kisses down Albus's body. He starts with his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat and the sharp line of his collar bone. Each touch fills Albus with anticipation, it makes him shiver and James knows it. As his brother kisses the sensitive spot right above his hip bone, deft fingers make light work of his trousers. It's maddening, how James doesn't stop there, how he continues by running his hands down Albus's legs before he stops to nip at his ankles. James is grinning as he pulls off Albus's socks. "See?" He says, "Not that hard." 

Albus rolls his eyes and James moves back up so he can be grabbed by either side of his face and be kissed, hard. "I hate you," Albus mutters against his lips and James kisses him deeper. 

They both know it's not true. 

 Albus helps James be rid of his shirt and he can't help but let his palm rest against the smooth pane of James's chest, right over his heart. He'd missed touching James, purely touching his skin. Sometimes he felt like all he wanted to do was map out all the edges of James's body, he could spend hours doing so, but tonight is not that night. He pushes James's trousers, his pants following, down his legs and pulls him in closer, earning a deep groan against the corner of his mouth. Albus needs to feel... _more_ , and James clearly agrees, unable to resist having his brother bare beneath him. Once their clothes lie in a heap on the floor (you'd never be able to tell which item belonged to whom), their skin sparks from the feeling of being so close. 

Albus gasps and James swallows the noise with his tongue, but how could Albus possibly resist making noise when their hips are aligned so perfectly, with each movement sending a jolt down his spine. _This is all it will take_ , Albus thinks, holding onto James's shoulders and back of his neck like an anchor. He wants this to last, he honestly and truly does, but James starts angling his hips at such a perfect way it causes the bed to creak beneath them. 

The music is loud outside, it travels through the air and gets dulled by the panes of glass on the window. It's a gentle melody, something sweet and Albus has an image of James taking him by the hand beneath the fluttering lights and pulling him to his chest. It's a ridiculous thought, it's dangerous, but it doesn't stop Albus from wanting it all the same. 

He wishes he could tell James how he feels, that he could moan it against his lips and not have to feel ashamed or wish to place the words back into his mouth. He wishes he could tell James how he feels and that James would murmur the words in return, that he would hold Albus tighter and say those words over, over and over again. 

Albus decides to live that life in his head. 

He focuses on the now. He focuses on James's hands, on his lips, on his tongue, on the drag of his fingernails on his rib cage and on the pleasure that ignites right down to his toes. He grips onto James tightly when he starts to feel it, that familiar arch of his spine and the stars that start to dance across his vision. 

James starts to move quicker, starts to gasp words against Albus's mouth and it's within moments of each other that they're falling over the edge. Albus throws his head back against the soft pillows, he tries biting his lip to stop the sounds that threaten to tear their way loudly through the room. But it doesn’t help. James kisses him, bites his lip instead and Albus feels like he’s floating.

James comes down from the high first, actually, Albus isn't exactly too sure, as he spends so long with his eyes closed anything could be happening around him. 

"God," James says finally, trailing soft presses of his lips along Albus's jaw. "I miss you." 

 _Me too_ , Albus says in his head, unsure of what his voice will sound like when he finally opens his mouth to speak. 

Albus is wrecked and he knows they've barely even started. 

James moves off him, just enough so he's not totally crushing him but still so close their legs don't untangle. Albus wishes for his wand, or even just a cloth, as he starts to feel the displeasure of what transpired beginning to dry on his skin. As if James has read his mind (he probably can, for all Albus knows) he glides a hand silently over their bodies and Albus's skin tingles with the feel of magic.

"Since when can you do wandless magic?" Albus asks, his voice dry and cracking round the edges.

James shrugs. "Dad has taught me a couple of things."

The hand he'd used to run over them takes Albus's fingers in his own, twining their hands together and holding them up to the soft slight that barely makes it in the room from outside. James slides his fingers through Albus's then out again, runs his thumb over Albus's wrist, like a child playing with a toy and watching in fascination. 

"It's so... strange," James says.

"What?" Albus replies softly. 

"I thought I'd forget what it's like, to be with you. After awhile I forgot certain things. Like the smell of your hair or your smile when I try make you laugh. I would try and picture the way you'd look at me or the sound of your laugh or the face you make when you cum." 

Albus blushes and James brings their hands to his face so he can kiss each of Albus's knuckles. 

“Don't be embarrassed," he says, "I love that face. It's my favourite face. But what I'm trying to say is; it's all so strange because I feel like I forgot it, I forgot all of it, but being here with you now... it's as if we were never apart." 

"Except we were." 

"I know," James sighs, "I know." 

"You know..." Albus muses, "I don't forgive you." It’s an odd thing to say, as they're lying side by side and the sheets tangle around their waists. But it needs to be said. Albus feels like it will overwhelm him if it isn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt James, not this time, but he knows he’s putting through torment none the less. “You’ve ruined my life.”

James goes incredibly still.

"That wasn't my intention." 

"Then what was?" 

"To have fun. To be with you." 

"It's not fair, James. You get to go off and marry someone perfect and live a perfect life and pretend nothing ever happened and I can't even let anyone else touch me because of you." 

James squeezes his hand tighter and Albus knows he's suffering. 

"Once..." Albus says slowly, "I told Dad I was _sorry_ that I wasn't you." 

"Albus..." 

"What do you think Dad would say if he knew? Famous Harry Potter and his famous sons... although, I suppose, he's never really been that fond of me so he can just add it to the list of disappointments." 

"Dad loves you. Don't say that." 

"Don't pretend you're not the favourite." 

"I'm _not_.”

"And you've always been the perfect one." 

"Stop it. Don't turn everything into a competition. Because it's not." 

"Was it always your plan to keep me tight on your leash? To have me when you wanted me and make me go along with it? To hope I kept my mouth shut and you could use me how you wanted because I'm meant to feel safe around my older brother?" 

James turns to face Albus roughly, pulling Albus by his hand until their nose to nose and he looks as if he could commit murder at the flick of a wrist. His eyes are dark, almost black, and Albus is terrified. 

"Don't," James grits out, like he's forcing himself to speak, "don't you dare." 

Albus's heart beats nervously and he feels brave. "What? Confront you with the truth?" 

"Albus, I, fuck," he's almost speechless, "I would _never_ hurt you. I can't believe you think that. I -" 

"Well what else am I meant to think? Eighteen year olds don't kiss their sixteen year old brothers and convince them it's a good idea to start fucking. I told you I didn't - I told you - you _convinced_ me it was okay. But it wasn't. I went along with it because - because..." 

James's eyes shine against the light, they almost glitter. "Because what, Albus?" 

"This all got so messed up." 

Albus curls in on James, he buries his face into the crook of his brother’s neck and despite the hard tremor in his voice, he cries. He cries and he hates himself for it. James's arms wrap around his shoulders, one around the back of his neck so his fingers tangle through hair. "Please," James whispers, his voice cracking, "don't cry." 

Albus doesn't say anything and James holds him so tight. So tight. 

Albus wants the room to burn down around them. He wants it to burn. He can't take it anymore. 

"James," he says, but it comes out like a gasp, "help me." 

James leans back, just enough that they're gazes catch and Albus can see his tears mirrored in James's eyes. They're so brown, Albus thinks. No, not brown, chocolate. Hazelnut. Like almonds that have been dipped in fresh flakes of gold. Albus loves him. He loves him so much he could choke on it. 

"James -" it gets caught in his throat.

"Albus," James whispers, his thumb running over the tracks of tears, smearing them, removing them. When he speaks again his voice is fierce, it's clear, it's said with such assurance and such determination it's like he's waited a lifetime to say it. 

"Albus," he says. "I love you." 

Albus breaks. 

No, he shatters. 

  


\--

  


When Albus was just a child, well before he went to Hogwarts, he used to spend hours lying out in the fields beyond their family home. There was something about looking up at the clouds, something about holding his small fingers up to them so he could trace the patterns in the air. 

There was so much that didn't make sense about his life. Sometimes it was all so confusing, Albus thought his head was going to explode. His parents tried to explain it, tried to explain all the funny things that would happen when he least expected it. They tried but Albus's head was still full of butterflies and questions. Why did leaves flutter when he touched them? Why did the fireplace come to life at just a wave of his dads hand? Why did Uncle Ron give him sweets that made his ears steam? And why did things seem to come to life in Albus's presence? 

Magic. That's what his family told him. _Magic_. 

It all made Albus's head spin, so he'd often run away when it didn't make sense. Albus ran away a lot. 

Albus ran away and he watched the clouds. 

His favourite spot was on top of the hill, the one that was high and round and covered in daisies. It was really only worth its while in summer, when the grass was green and dry. In winter it was frightfully cold and the grass turned silver and wet. Whilst Albus was incredibly fond of making his parents worry when he'd run off, he wasn't particularly fond of freezing to death. 

Albus would run off to the hill _a lot_ when James left for Hogwarts. 

The morning before James left, August 31st, Albus ran off. He was on the hill, the air warm and dry and the clouds were providing him with dozens of patterns to amuse himself. 

"There you are!" A voice had called, running up the hill. James fell down beside him in the grass, all smiles and confidence, his breath heavy and laboured from having run. Albus turned his gaze from the clouds to smile at his brother. James had grinned, his teeth bright and eyes captivating. "Why'd you run away again?" He asked.

Albus shrugged. "Don't know." 

"Are you upset again?" 

"Maybe." 

"Why?" 

"Don't know." 

"Why?" 

James had always been _so_ frustrating. 

"Are you excited for school?" 

"So excited!" James was so infuriatingly cheerful. "It's going to be so awesome. I can't wait. What do you think it'll be like? Uncle Ron always talks about how amazing it was but Teddy says it's really scary and everyone's really mean. But I think he only says that to be funny. I hope I'm in Gryffindor, I'll just _die_ if I'm not. And I know that it's, like, so impossible for First Years to get into the Qudditch team but Dad did it so maybe I will too.  Do you think people will know who I am? Mum and Dad keep telling me to just ignore people if they whisper when they hear my name. But I suppose I wouldn't mind having a little bit of attention. Although it's annoying when people look at us when we go shopping and stuff so maybe not. I don't know. What do you think?" 

Albus had always been used to James over talking. It was mostly annoying, almost always annoying, but then it had just made Albus sad. Things were going to be so quiet without James around it and it had made Albus so sad. 

Albus shrugged. He used to shrug a lot. "I think it'll be easy for you. Everything will be great." 

James's smile was dazzling. "Thanks Al. I think so too. And then in just two years you'll be at Hogwarts too and it will be so much fun being there together! I'll know everything by then and I'll be able to help you and stuff and take care of you." 

Albus couldn't help but smile. "You promise?" 

"Of course! Don't worry. The two years will go by really quickly and I'll write to you all the time and we'll have such an amazing time together at Hogwarts just you wait."

Lots of things had changed, but clouds never did. 

  


\--

  


It’s funny, how we always want what we can never have. That we pine and long and desperately hope beyond all measure that the thing we want most will land happily in the palm of our hands. Yet, in the face of it, when we are proposed with what we want most; we panic.

Albus had always wanted to hear those words. Always.  _Always._ Over these past few months he’d lie awake in bed, eyes closed and wishing he could capture the feeling of James telling him those three. little. words. Would he feel joy? Elation? Incomprehensible happiness?

Turns out, no.

In the face of it, when proposed with what he wants most; Albus panics.

James is silent, trying to map out the features of Albus’s face to search for any clue to how he could be feeling. Albus is not sure what his face gives away, or rather, what it doesn’t. Right this moment he’s working hard at keeping his breath steady, or even remember how to breathe at all. His brain churns, and it works, and he feels like he’s having some sort of bizarre internal battle.  _Talk, you idiot, say something!_ His brain supplies.

“Okay.”

 _Stupid._ So stupid, he thinks.

But James smirks, just slightly.

“Okay?”

“I mean, yes.” No better.

“Yes?”

“Ugh, I mean –“

James kisses him. Probably to silence him, Albus is sure. Probably to save him from the pain of trying to formulate words. Albus lets himself be kissed. It’s nice, sort of gentle, and sort of sweet. There’s no urgency to it, no rush, they both just ease into it comfortably. But like all good things, it comes to an end.

“Better?” James whispers, running his thumb over Albus’s bottom lip.

Albus nods.

“You don’t have to say it back, you know. It’s okay.”

Except it’s not. In fact, the majority of Albus’s panic is primarily due to the fact he’s not sure what will be worse; saying it back or... not.

“You know I want to say it,” Albus says. “You know I do. God, I’ve wanted to say it for so long but -”

“But?”

“I’m worried it will make it worse.”

“Then don’t say it,” James smiles softly, “it’s okay.”

 “No, it’s not okay. Because, I know you’re only saying it because you feel like you need to or that you feel obligated or, whatever. But it’s _real_ if I say it, it’s so real and I can’t take it back if I say it. I can’t take it back.”

“Albus, this is important that you listen to me,” his voice is hard and commanding. “I am not saying it because I feel I need to. I’m not saying it because I feel obligated. Albus, I’m saying it because I _love_ you. And I stand by what I said, you don’t need to say it back, but I don’t want you to feel like that if it’s because you think I don’t mean it. Because I do. I love you, damn it.”

Albus is so stressed he could tear his hair out. “But why are you saying this _now?_ Now! Of all times! The night before your wedding, I can’t even. Your timing could not be worse, it really could not.”

“I know, I know. But I know if I don’t say it now, I might not get the chance to.”

“We have our whole lives to –“

“No, I know, but after tomorrow – I may face you never speaking to me again.”

Albus knows. He knows. Of course he does. He knows what James is going to say and yet...

“I’m going to marry Isabelle tomorrow.”

It should hurt more. But it doesn’t. “I know,” Albus almost whispers. “And it’s okay.”

James looks at him in question.“It is?”

“Well, it’s not _okay._ Maybe that’s the wrong word but. James. Don’t you think we’ve ruined our lives enough? We don’t need to ruin them anymore. As much as I like the idea of running off into the sunset, we – we just can’t do that. You know we can’t.”

“And we also can’t do this anymore.”

“We can’t do this anymore,” Albus echoes. He takes back how he thought about it not hurting because it does. God, it does. But it’s the clearest his head has felt all night.

James kisses the corner of his mouth, leaving his mark. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you.”

It _hurts._

“Please don’t say this is goodbye,” Albus whispers and James is quick to shake his head.

“No, not for me. I’ll always need you.”

“I might... I might need some time. I don’t know if I can – not right now. I don’t know.”

“It’s alright.”

It’s not.

“Will you come tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Albus says, running his fingers over the dip of James’s collarbone. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to –"

“I will be there. And I will smile for you and I will clap for you and I’ll be okay.”

When James kisses him, for what feels like the last time, Albus lets his heart crack.

\--

Life moves on. We all move on. We live, we breathe, we laugh and we cry and in the end, at the end of it all, life runs out. Our time is so small, our impact impossible. Someone used to tell Albus that the life you lead on Earth was dictated by who you chose to spend it with. That’s not true. Albus thinks, maybe, that the life he leads on Earth is dictated by himself. All his happiness, his sadness, his joy and his guilt and his worth have only ever been determined by himself. Albus chose for his own heart to break, in the end. In the end he watched probably the only person he’ll ever love marry someone else. In the end, he never told that person he loved them. In time, as the years trickled by, he became an Uncle. He opened his heart again, finally believed that he could and it changed him in ways he didn’t think were possible. He let someone in, he let someone hold his heart and for years (and years and years and years) they have kept it safe.

Perhaps Albus never truly healed. But perhaps, it never truly mattered, because his life was so small. It was so meaningless. Nothing mattered; it really didn’t and sometimes as the years went on Albus started to forget certain things.

He forgot about James.

Not in a way that was obvious. James was a constant in his life, for the rest of his life, he was always there and he always would be. But he forgot him in the way he thought he only knew him for so long. He forgot what James’s lips tasted like, what it felt like to have him sigh against his cheek. He lived a life where he saw James, all the time, and yet with each passing day, week, month, year; he forgot more and more.

But sometimes... God, just sometimes. Sometimes James would smile at him. Sometimes James touched the back of his hand or pressed their legs together. Sometimes they’d be alone in a room and Albus felt like he couldn’t remember to breathe. Sometimes Albus would close his eyes and he would see them again, as those young, foolish boys who meddled with the balance of the universe and didn’t know the line between wrong and right. Sometimes he would close his eyes and just for a second, just for a _second,_ he remembered what it was like to be loved by his brother.

Maybe Albus never truly healed. Maybe that’s okay.

Life moves on.

 

**The End.**  


 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're left feeling incomplete... let me know below and i might be able to fill some gaps.


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